Resistance
by willawow
Summary: Gaius should have expected it because, of course, it was simply illogical to think that Arthur or Merlin would come out unharmed after thirteen days...


Gaius should have expected it because, of course, it was simply illogical to think that Arthur or Merlin would come out unharmed after thirteen days in the hands of Lord Ranulf's men. Still, when the knights burst into his chambers, Gwaine and Lancelot carrying Merlin between them while Elyan led Arthur in after them, the prince's arm slung over his shoulders, it still startled him. "Dear gods!" Gaius cried, trying to ignore the concern that rolled in his gut like nausea. "What happened?"

"Lord Ranulf happened," Arthur spat out. As if in response, Merlin turned his face into Gwaine's shoulder, face pinched in agony.

Bristling, Gaius set to work, ordering the knights as to where to set his ward and prince in a way that on any other occassion would have been completely inappropriate for his station. Unsurprisingly, not one challenged him. "I take it conditions were less than hospitable?" Gaius asked, because _dear gods _if either of them had caught an infection during their imprisonment, he presumbed that they would be ill-suited to fight it off. A quick glance over to where Merlin lay, staring silently up at him from the bed, skin bruised and broken in places, and Gaius' thoughts were affirmed. "Damn that man."

"Agreed," Arthur replied and sank gingerly into a chair.

Lord Ranulf was a pithy excuse for a would-be king-a man who spoke cloyingly while in the privacy of his rooms foolishly plotted even against his own allies-but his men were well known for their brutality. He had risen to greater power in Mercia after King Cenred's death left a power vaccuum. The king had fathered no heirs and now men were scrambling for their own piece of the kingdom. Ranulf, so far, seemed successful in the gaining the kingdom through sheer force and intimidation. Gaius had recieved more than one letter from Hunith expressing her concern over the Lord's roaming patrols.

"We meant to visit Hunith," Arthur explained after Gaius has ordered all the knights out of the room. "We were on our where there when the men found us. There were nine of them. I took down three, Merlin two, but then I turned and saw one had a knife to the idiot's throat and I-" He broke off, seemingly unsure how to go on, and after a moment's consideration simply waved his hand in front of him as if trying to gesture to the old physician his guilt and frustration. Cautiously, Gaius moved to check the prince's wounds but he shrugged him off. "No, I can wait. Check Merlin."

Gaius hesitated before nodding. Inching towards Merlin, he sat down on a stool at his bedside. It seemed as if every inch of the young man was bruised; his lip was split in two places, blood crusted the side of his head and left ear, three fingers on his right hand were broken and missing fingernails-the list of injuries went on and on. "My boy, what happened?" Merlin didn't reply, only turned his face away, cheeks darkening with shame.

"He can't answer you," Arthur replied from the other side of the room. "He's screamed himself hoarse."

"Oh Merlin," the old physcian sighed. He allowed himself a moment of paternal tenderness as he stroked his ward's soft, short hair, only to discover another wound, causing Merlin to flinch. Setting his shoulders, he moved to get to work on his paitent but then stopped. "I don't know where to begin..."

Arthur and Merlin exchanged glances. Some unreadable expression flickered over his ward's features and he watched as the prince nodded once. "His feet. Check his feet."

So Gaius did and blanched. From the soles to the pads of his bare feet, blood and dirt had gathered and crusted, and when Gaius finally managed to fill a bowl with water and wash off all that had been caked across Merlin's skin, he had to stop and catch his breath. Someone had taken the cowskin to the bottom of his feet, cruelly flaying apart the soft flesh and nerves. It would have been terribly painful and certainly even a blind man could see how Merlin's face tightened with pain and how he bit down on the soft suede of his jacket sleeve while Gaius carefully applied a poultice.

Finally Gaius could stand it no longer. The years of treating battle wounds and illnesses fell so terribly short when it came preparing him in treating his own ward, so he pressed a little bottle of sleeping tonic into Merlin's hands and waited until he passed out before carrying on. He set the fingers and bound the hand without a word, and it was only halfway through balefully cutting through his ward's tunic to study his bruised chest that Gaius worked up the nerve to turn and face the prince. "What happened?" he asked. Something inside him fought and begged for ignorance-he didn't want to know.

Arthur laughed. "He's damned clever. More clever than I give him credit for." The prince scrubbed a hand over his thin growth of beard and blood flaked from his fingers as he did so. "He...he distracted Ranulf's men, jeered at them, and he convinced them that I wasn't worth their time. I don't know how he did it. I always considered him to be foolish, but..."

"...he comes through when you need him to."

"Yes."

Both men sat and stared at the injured young man asleep on the bed, drawing in stuttering breaths with his single broken rib.

"How did you escape?"

"Merlin." Arthur replied. Gaius stiffened. Did he know? Had Merlin revealed himself to the prince? "He figured out how to jimmy the lock on the door. We knocked out the guard and ran."

Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Ran? But his feet..."

Arthur sighed. "I know." Looking away, the prince continued, "He threatened them the entire time. Cursed their families as they tortured him. I've never seen him so...angry. Once, though-and only once-he asked them to kill him."

Something tightened inside Gaius's chest and he reached out Merlin's pliant hand, clasping it tightly between both of his own. "When was this?" he asked. Inwardly, he resolved himself not to think of all the potential emotional reprecussions to come.

"Two days before we escaped. The day after that he lost his voice,"Arther said hoarsely. "He couldn't have begged if he wanted to."

Gaius sighed again. "He wouldn't have."

"No," Arthur agreed. "I think not."

The oppressive silence hung low in the air, weighing down Arthur's shoulders and Gaius' chest as the old physician carried out his ministrations. He bathed his ward's wounds, wrapped broken ribs, stitched large cuts back together, and smoothed salve over bruises with the dry pad of his thumb. Miraculously, Merlin slept on, snuffling occassionally in his sleep and only once crying out as Gaius skillfully knit flesh together with strong thread and sharp, curved needle. They sat together, the prince and the leech, in dual solidarity and deliberately chosen ignorance of the hard times to come. For once, they were thankful for Merlin's stubborn resistance.

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><p><strong>So, I wrote this rather quickly over three days while I worked out some kinks with "Reputation for Veracity". Hope you enjoy it. -Willa<strong>


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